


Your Tongue Was In My mouth

by trashcangimmick



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Billy Hargrove, Casual Sex, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Slut Billy Hargrove, Slut Steve Harrington, These Boys Have Never Heard of a Boundary In Their Lives, Threesome - M/M/M, face fucking, just guys being dudes, spitroating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 01:25:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19686259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcangimmick/pseuds/trashcangimmick
Summary: “Well, yeah, OK.” Billy snorts after a moment. “But that’s nothing new. I wanna see it hard.”“Get it hard then.” Steve shrugs.Or: Summer is the perfect time to have a dirty threesome in Tommy’s basement.





	Your Tongue Was In My mouth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thottie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thottie/gifts).



Steve’s walked into this basement plenty of times before. After all, he and Tommy used to be, _best bros._ He was over here most nights of the week. Because Steve’s house is cold and empty, and you can’t sit on any of the furniture without feeling like you’re ruining something. Tommy’s house is loud. Dirty. Lived in. 

His dad works late at the bowling alley. His mom works early at the diner. So that means between the hours of 8pm, after his mom goes to bed, and midnight, when his dad gets home, chaos reigns. Tommy is supposed to be _in charge_ of his younger brothers Jordan and Charlie. Which means Tommy gives his brothers a six-pack of soda, and some milk duds, and tells them to do whatever the fuck they want so long as they don’t wake mom up and don’t come in the basement.

The unfinished wood-plank stairs creak underneath Steve’s feet as he walks down them. The only light is from the flickering TV screen and the junky lava-lamp plugged in near the corner. The air smells how you’d expect it to smell. Stale mildew mixed with cigarettes, weed, cheap beer, and sweat. It’s not quite complete. Doesn’t exactly fit over the sense memory. Probably will soon. 

In Steve’s head, Tommy’s basement smells like spunk. It smells like quiet, desperate, dirty secrets, and the physical evidence they leave behind.

Steve reaches the bottom of the staircase. Walks over the cement floor to the threadbare carpet that the cracked leather couch rests on. Tommy’s sitting on the middle cushion. He smiles and says, “What’s up, dude?”

Steve nods, but does not verbally respond. Because Billy Hargrove is sitting on the far end of the couch. Legs spread wide. Cigarette between his lips. Staring glassy-eyed at the TV, wearing nothing but the swim trunks of his lifeguard uniform. 

Tommy didn’t mention anyone else when he called and asked if Steve wanted to hang out. Tommy and Carol broke up. Steve and Nancy haven’t been together for a long time. The logic tracked. Now, with a third variable in the equation, Steve’s not sure what to make of it. 

It would be weirder if he didn’t sit down. So he settles in. He accepts the beer that Tommy hands him. They’re watching porn, which he didn’t notice at first. The sound’s off. They’ve got a record playing instead. Loud and abrasive. Metal. Probably something Billy brought.

On the screen, there’s a blonde girl with big tits getting railed on top of a pool table. Her hair looks kind of like Billy’s. Shoulder-length soft curls. 

When Steve first started coming to Tommy’s house, in the eighth grade, it was magazines. Playboys that Tommy’s uncle slipped him. Shit he stole from the trunk of his Dad’s car. It took a couple years before either of them was brave enough to try lifting something from the video store. They got it down to a science eventually. One of them would distract Kevin–they only ever tried it when Kevin was working because he came back from Nam with more than a few screws loose and was constantly stoned–and the other would slip into the back room.

The weirdest thing of all to consider, is the fact that both Steve and Tommy are old enough to flash their ID and walk into the back room themselves now. Billy isn’t. Which is its own kind of weird. But y’know.

Steve doesn’t know what to talk about. If it were just Tommy, maybe it would be bullshit about old times. They could go down a real _remember when_ rabbit hole. 

If it were just Billy, well… Steve wouldn’t be here. He and Billy aren’t friends. Have no old times to reminisce about beyond, _hey remember when we beat the shit out of each other?_ It’s the longest interaction they ever had. A few insults here and there don’t amount to much in the end.

In fact, Steve was ready to forget Billy Hargrove existed. With no reason to see him every day, he could just let it all fade without a thought.

Now, Steve’s stuck wondering if Tommy invited him over and then Billy just showed up, or if he invited them both over, or if Billy was here when Tommy called Steve and whether or not being in the basement watching porn means the same thing that it used to. Is this just a normal thing that guys do, the way that Steve and Tommy used to pretend? Is something else going on?

The record finishes. Fades out to static with the occasional bump. Billy gets up and flips it over. Tommy starts loading his bong.

Billy doesn’t sit down again though. Instead he walks right in front of Steve. Blocking his view of the TV. Staring him down. 

“So. Let’s see if the rumors are true.”

“Uh… what?”

Steve has an idea what Billy’s talking about. But that can’t _possibly_ be what Billy’s talking about.

“No need to be shy. Way I heard it, you’re packing jungle heat. _”_

Steve glances sideways. Tommy’s still loading the bowl. Not offering any help or direction whatsoever. So, Steve returns his gaze to Billy.

“You wanna see my dick?”

“Yeah. Sometime today would be nice, like, I got shit to do later.” Billy isn’t smiling. If anything, he actually looks annoyed. Which is a lot to parse.

Come to think of it, nobody has ever just flat out asked to see Steve’s cock. He’s not sure about the protocol in this situation. Also… Billy has seen it before in the locker room? Which makes this whole interaction ten times weirder. Is it a joke?

Whatever.

Steve unzips his jeans. Shoves them down a little so they don’t get in the way. He’s soft. Maybe starting to chub up a little. There is porn on. This is a weird, but definitely sexual situation.

Billy steps closer. He gets _real_ close. Right up in Steve’s space. Not even bothering to pretend like he’s not staring directly at Steve’s junk. 

“Well, yeah, OK.” Billy snorts after a moment. “But that’s nothing new. I wanna see it hard.”

“Get it hard then.” Steve shrugs. The words are out before he can really walk through the various scenarios they could trigger. Like, he might get punched in the face. 

Apparently, though, that’s what Billy wanted to hear. He laughs, in that harsh, kind of manic way he does. Then he drops to his knees. He’s so close already. It puts his face right at the level of Steve’s cock. He reaches out, grabs the base of it. Strokes it a few times and _fuck._ Yeah. Steve’s got a full-on boner by the time Billy flicks his tongue out and licks the tip of it.

“Holy shit,” Steve breathes.

Because Billy Hargrove is kneeling between his legs, holding his dick, and he just put his tongue on it. This is. A lot. This is a lot to deal with all at once.

“I’ll say.” Billy raises his eyebrows. “Grower and a shower. Aren’t you just a lucky bastard?”

He laps at the head of Steve’s cock. Jerking him off too slow to really do anything. Steve’s still white-knuckling the arm of the couch. 

The thing is, Billy Hargrove looks like a porn star in more ways than the hairstyle. Big blue eyes. Pouty lips. Perfect body. He was made for a screen. Made to take a cock. It’s the kind of thought you have at hundreds of inopportune moments. The kind of thought that happens so frequently, you’re used to tamping it down. Pausing long enough to marinate in the reality of it, acknowledge it, is well. Steve’s brain might melt with everything that’s happening right now.

Tommy groans softly. He’s abandoned the bong. Set it on the coffee table. He’s staring at Billy’s mouth and Steve’s cock, and the way those two things are interacting. His eyes are wide, and he’s breathing a little too fast. Obviously turned on. 

Steve really likes how Tommy looks when he’s turned on. The soft flush on his freckled cheeks. The way he’ll wet his lips. The way his breath hitches when he sees something he’s really into. 

In his head, Steve’s always said it was different. Like, he’s attracted to girls. He thinks girls are really pretty. It’s just, when another guy is obviously getting off on something–that’s also hot. It’s a sympathetic reaction. The same way you cringe when someone gets kicked in the balls.

Except for it’s not the same at all. But it made sense to him at one point.

The head of Steve’s cock slips into Billy’s mouth. Deep into it. Like, Billy takes at least half of it, sinking down until Steve’s edging at the back of his throat. He pulls back off, smiling. It’s a dangerous smile. If all the blood hasn’t left Steve’s brain the second Billy touched him—he might be concerned. 

Billy shuffles over towards Tommy. Climbs up onto the couch. Into his lap. They kiss. It’s aggressive, and deep, and kind of gross. Like Steve can tell there’s too much tongue. Too much saliva. He can’t look away. Tommy fists his hand in Billy’s hair. Grabs Billy’s ass. Billy _moans_. It’s not the way a girl moans. All soft, high-pitched and desperate. It’s not the way Tommy grunts and gasps right when he’s about to come. It’s got all the performative qualities of a girl whimpering as you lick between her thighs, but it’s rough, and deep, and it makes Steve’s head spin. 

They break apart. Billy smiles again. Looking at Steve. Then Tommy. Then back at Steve.

“I think I’ve got a fun idea.” Billy bites his lower lip, just a little. Just enough to make it plumper after he releases the pressure.

“What?” Steve’s mouth is dry. Billy’s still looking at him.

“Like. A game.”

“OK?” Steve wonders how spun out he looks. If it’s possible to tell the degree of internal meltdown he’s currently experiencing, or if maybe he can seem detached.

“I’ll suck your dick while Tommy fucks me and whoever comes first has take my cock down their throat.”

Yeah. All right. Steve definitely doesn’t look detached. Probably looks panicked. So many things in that sentence would be fine things to panic about on their own. Strung all together, it’s like getting hit by a freight train.

For some reason, the thing he’s most fixated on is the degree of casualness Billy seems to have about it. Like he lets Tommy fuck his ass all the time and it’s no big deal. Like they suck each other’s cocks. Fuck each others throats. And it’s all a regular Tuesday afternoon.

Things have certainly escalated a lot since Steve last came here. Back then it was just staring at the TV, jerking off, stealing glances every now and then. Giving each other a hand if they were stoned enough. Once or twice, rutting together with their pants down, because they were real drunk and maybe wouldn’t remember it, and would certainly never discuss it again.

“We don’t have to, of course.” Billy tilts his head. “If you’re too much of a pussy. Tommy said you would be.”

“I didn’t say that!” Tommy smacks Billy’s ass. 

“Whatever. ‘Steve’s kind of a prude, don’t freak him out’. Same thing.”

_Prude._ Is that what Steve is? That doesn’t sound right. That’s what Steve used to say about girls who would come over to drink beers, and swim in his pool, but wanted to stop at second base. That’s what you say about people who are hesitant to go along with whatever you had planned for the evening.

Did Billy and Tommy have this planned?

Shit. Of course they did. The whole situation looks exactly like the first time Tommy invited Steve over and Carol was here. Once they all had enough to drink, things ended up with Carol riding Steve’s cock while Tommy jerked off to it.

Except this time, Steve’s not even fucked up. And Tommy seems like he’s gonna do a lot more than just watch. And it’s not Carol, who Tommy was dating. It’s Billy Hargrove.

Is Tommy dating Billy Hargrove?

“So?” Billy rests his hand on Steve’s thigh. “What do you think, _King Steve?_ Scared you can’t last?”

“I’m not scared.” Steve says. Again, before really walking through what it means. He doesn’t have the excuse of alcohol, or weed. Just Billy. It’s just that Billy is good at getting a rise out of him. Always has been.

It’s just that Steve really wants Billy’s mouth back on his cock, because it felt so good, and Billy’s so pretty, and maybe Steve has thought about fucking the smile off Billy’s stupid face more times than he’d ever dare to count. He was ready to forget Billy Hargrove. Because Billy Hargrove is inconvenient. The subject of many late-night fantasies that he tries to pretend are just the garbled sexual frustrations of a dream.

“Awesome.” Billy taps Tommy on the cheek. “Grab the lube.”

They shift. Tommy gets up. Billy strips off his trunks and sprawls out on his stomach. Head practically in Steve’s lap. He wraps his fingers around Steve’s dick. Not exactly stroking it. Just kind of holding it. Looking at it.

“You know… don’t let it go to your head or anything, but this is definitely in the top five dicks I’ve ever seen.”

“Seen a lot of dicks?” Steve’s still holding onto the armrest. Nails digging into leather. He wants to be holding Billy’s hair. Forcing him down. Making him swallow more than he can really take.

Billy looks up at him. Winks. It sends a little zing of heat through Steve’s body.

Maybe Billy’s a slut. Maybe it’s not just Tommy that he fucks. Maybe he’s got the sort of laissez faire sexual attitude that allows for as many partners as he can get his hands on. Steve understands. He’s been accused of acting like a slut. That’s with girls though. It’s different. It’s an achievement getting a lot of different girls into your bed. Sucking a lot of dicks is… it’s different.

Tommy settles down between Billy’s spread thighs. He’s got a tube of KY jelly. He opens the cap. Drizzles some out. Then he’s got two fingers in Billy’s ass. Billy’s mouth falls open. He moans. His eyes fall shut, and he’s resting his cheek against Steve’s leg, whimpering as Tommy fingers him. 

Does it feel good? Seems like it feels good. Billy’s rocking his hips. Pressing back against the intrusion. Like he wants more. 

Steve’s never seen someone get fucked in the ass. Knows it’s a thing, obviously. Knows some girls will do it if you ask real nicely. Knows _faggots_ do it. He always kind of assumed it was the same as giving head, where you’re taking one for the team with hope of reciprocation. Billy’s _really_ into it, though. Panting. Spreading his legs wider. Saying, “Gimme more, come on.”

Tommy adds another finger. His mouth is half open. He’s staring down at Billy’s ass. At the place where it’s stretched around his knuckles. Tommy’s hard. It’s obvious in his baggy jeans. 

Steve kind of wishes Billy weren’t laying on his stomach. He’s probably hard too. Steve wants to see. Billy’s about average when he’s soft. Steve’s always wanted to look longer than the glimpses you can steal in the shower. 

“I’m ready,” Billy gasps. “Jesus. Just. Let’s go.”

Tommy withdraws his fingers. Unzips his jeans. Gets his dick out. Looks the same as it always has. A little short. Thick. Pale as the rest of him. Dusky pink and shiny at the tip. He pulls Billy back by the hips, until he’s on all fours. Lines up. Presses into him.

Billy whines. Completely blissed out. They stay still for a moment. Both trying to catch their breath.

“C’mon Harrington,” Billy sounds a little dreamy when he opens his eyes. “We gotta keep it fair here.”

Steve snaps out of his daze. Understands what he’s supposed to do. He gets on his knees, cock right in Billy’s face. Billy opens his mouth. Waits. Steve feeds his dick into the wet heat. Feels so fucking good. Billy starts to bob his head. Nobody can ever get much of Steve in their mouth. Billy’s taking a lot. Like. Steve’s already hitting the back of his throat, and Billy’s not gagging. 

“Fuck,” Steve breathes.

He can’t take his eyes off Billy’s mouth. Can’t think about anything besides how good Billy looks, lips stretched thin. Drool already starting to run down his chin because he can’t swallow when he’s this full.

There’s already a heat twisting in Steve’s gut. A tingling at the base of his spine. He might have signed up for more than he can handle. Worst of all, he’s not that worried about it.

Billy moans around Steve’s cock. It’s enough to make him see stars. Also enough to remind him that Billy’s getting fucked right now. Tommy’s sweating. Holding on tight to Billy’s hips. Pumping into him, steady, unhurried. 

Steve’s seen Tommy fuck Carol. Seen it quite a bit. He always liked watching. Got why Tommy liked watching him too. Live action porn happening right in front of you. Sex that you can smell, body heat you can feel, skin that you can reach out and touch if you want to. There was a whole summer before Nancy, when Steve would come over, and they’d all mess around together. They didn’t ever really talk about it. Steve wasn’t part of their _thing_ , he was just a visitor. Hooked up with plenty of other girls. But always liked fucking Carol while Tommy was there. Even if it meant that he and Tommy didn’t really get to be by themselves very often. At the time, he wasn’t gonna admit to missing it.

Billy is a lot better at this than Carol ever was. She would gag as soon as Steve started to rub against her soft palate. Could really only suck on the tip while she gave him a hand job. 

Steve grabs Billy’s hair. Thrusts a couple times. Not too hard. Just experimenting. Billy groans. Looks up at him as he goes slack and pliant. He can’t say he wants Steve to take over, mouth full as it is. He also doesn’t seem to be protesting it.

So, Steve rolls his hips. Starts to fuck Billy’s face. Careful at first. Then rougher. Billy doesn’t have a problem handling it. Tommy’s speeding up too. Steve can hear the slap of skin. Feel the way each thrust jolts Billy forward. 

Fuck.

It feels too good. Steve can’t breathe. Can’t calm himself down. Doesn’t want to pump the breaks. He knows he’s already a goner.

Steve doesn’t give a warning. Because Billy’s a slut. Because Steve still kind of hates him. Because Steve wants to come inside him. He hits the peak groaning, shoving into Billy’s throat much too hard. Billy doesn’t choke, though. He swallows everything that Steve gives him. Steve collapses. Sitting back on the couch. Just watching, breathless, as Tommy and Billy fuck. 

Billy’s talking now. Mumbling, voice rough and raspy.

“God yes, fucking give it to me. Right there. Oh. _Fuck. Tommy.”_

Billy tenses. Steve can see how hard his dick is. It swings a little every time Tommy thrusts. It’s _leaking_. There’s a little puddle on the leather. Billy’s arms are shaking. He arches his back.

And then Billy comes. Doesn’t even have a hand on him. His dick twitches, splattering milky jizz onto the couch underneath him. His whole body rolls with it, shuddering, pushing back against Tommy like he wants more. Tommy grunts. Fucks into him a few more times before going still.

The record is still playing. Distorted guitar and heavy drums, filling the room. 

Tommy pulls out. Sits down. Billy slumps into his lap. Kissing him. Less aggressive than before, but still sloppy. Steve isn’t sure what to do. If he should even be watching this, or maybe he should excuse himself. 

He wonders if Billy and Tommy are in love. It’s a thought he wasn’t prepared for. A possible situation that didn’t exist in the same universe he lived in an hour ago. It always made his chest ache a little, when Tommy and Carol would trade an ‘ _I love you_ ’ while they were all sitting in the aftermath. He didn’t ever have feelings for Carol. She was a cool chick. But just another chick. 

He told himself Tommy was just his friend. His best friend. It’s natural to feel a little jealous when your best friend cares more about somebody else than they do about you.

Tommy’s not his best friend anymore. Hasn’t been in a while. Not since Nancy. Maybe Steve never stopped to wonder if Nancy made Tommy’s chest hurt, the same way Carol did to him. Maybe he didn’t want to wonder. There wasn’t anything he could do about it. Having that sort of thought wouldn’t have helped anything.

Billy shifts off Tommy’s lap, because Tommy needs to go get some towels. It’s weird when the basement door swings shut. It’s just Steve and Billy. The silence holds for a beat. They’re just staring at each other.

“Guess you still owe me, Harrington.” Billy raises an eyebrow. “You lost the game.”

“Yeah. Guess I do.”

Billy crawls across the couch. Until he’s right next to Steve. Lips hovering inches away.

“Maybe I’ll let you fuck me, if you do a good job… doubt you will though. Bet you’re gonna choke like a little bitch.”

It sounds an awful lot like a challenge. Billy is good at getting a rise out of him. Always has been. 

He can feel Billy’s breath on his cheek. 

Steve and Tommy only kissed once. It was during that summer when Carol started coming to the basement. But they weren’t in the basement. They were out in the woods, sitting on the hood of the beamer. High as fuck, drinking whiskey straight from the bottle under pale moonlight. 

They were sitting side by side. Leaning together. Hands on each other’s thighs. Looking up at the stars. Steve felt so small. So insignificant. Like for once, maybe it didn’t matter what two friends got up to in a small town when nobody else was around. 

He turned his gaze to Tommy’s freckles. Thinking to himself they looked like the stars. He knew Tommy would never be the one to start it. So he just dipped in. Pressed their lips together. Pressed them together again and again. Until their tongues slipped in. Until they were breathing heavy. Dizzy. 

“I love you.” Tommy whispered. Like he was afraid Steve would hear. 

Like it would change anything, after Steve had sat there while Tommy said the same thing to Carol so many times. It made his chest hurt in a different way. The pain of almost. Of something just within reach, but as distant as the stars. 

Steve was just sixteen. He didn’t know about things that lurked in the dark. About how fleeting life could be. He didn’t know that maybe you should hold onto whatever makes you happy because at any minute, it could get snatched away. 

Billy isn’t Tommy. He closes the distance himself. He smears their mouths together. It’s wet. It’s needy. It’s unashamed. 

It’s a kiss that tastes like sunshine. Like the freedom of not giving a fuck about anything or anyone. Billy’s a lot of things. But he’s not afraid. 

Billy curls his fingers around the back of Steve’s neck. Nips at his lips. There’s an abrasive edge to it. Jagged and desperate, the way most things about Billy are. Fire just beneath the surface. Billy is a recklessness that’s always moments away from spilling forth. 

It feels like Steve is standing on the edge of a cliff. That stomach-drop of anxiety. The prickle of exhilaration. He feels alive. 

The basement door opens again. They break apart. It almost feels like they did something wrong. Just because Steve doesn’t know how it is. What Billy and Tommy are to each other. He never kissed Carol. 

They all clean up with the towels Tommy brought. Steve and Tommy get dressed again. Billy doesn’t. They smoke the bong that Tommy loaded. When the record stops playing, they put on a movie. 

Billy sits between the two of them. Head on Tommy’s shoulder. Legs curled halfway underneath him. Feet pressing against Steve’s thigh. 

Maybe it’s going to be a strange summer. Maybe Steve’s more than OK with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'I'm Not Making Out With You' by Surf Curse. I'm on [tumblr](https://trashcangimmick.tumblr.com/).


End file.
